El Tango De Lucian
by Rumpleteasza
Summary: Being captured and forced into slavery is not something that gets resolved in three pages. Dawn Treader fic, an expanded version of the Lone Islands fiasco. Lucian, need I say! And yes, hopefully Caspian will eventually get to play the MoulinRougian hero.
1. Wares

**A/N:** Hello. I am back. I am the Daddy, hear me roar.

Well, obviously I'm not the Daddy, as I am a) female and b) not a parent, but that just sounded cool. It's 3:00am, Some guy is txting me saying he can see my bedroom from his house and I've run out of martini.

To make this a/n into something that actually has anything to do with the fic, I must point out now that this isn't the promised sequel to Sooner Or Later. I was reading through the CS Lewis section and noticed Saicho had updated with the Felimath chapter. So I think it's fairly safe to call her my official muse, as this fic deals mainly with that episode. I've changed a few things to include a bit of a harsher/more realistic view on the slavers, but the main reason is because I want an excuse for Lucy to be in dire moral danger so Caspian can go all Forties Heroic. Damn it, that sounds terrible; does this mean I have to revoke my feminist card? Good job, Rumms!

Also, I think we've caused a Lucian explosion on the CS Lewis section. Look at them all! All those lovely Lucians floating around. One day we should all indulge the minority and start a Jill/Rilian craze, obscure as it is, because people keep emailing me and telling me it'd be ace. That's reason enough in my book.

One more thing; the title of this fic is fairly nonplussing to the innocent reader, so purely to indulge myself I shall explain, whether you like it or not. If you have the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, then you have undoubtedly heard a track called 'El Tango De Roxanne'. It's the song that's played during the scene where Satine is attacked by the duke. Apart from the context being relevant, I just always pictured Caspian bursting through the door at the orchestral crescendo ready to AVENGE. For some reason. Can't imagine why.

Anyway, Enjoy.

xxx

* * *

El Tango De Lucian

* * *

Foolish. So foolish.

Why hadn't he expected this?

Felimath was the picture of beauty, and Caspian couldn't fault Lucy for wanting to abandon the tedium of life on deck for a few hours to walk in the open moorland. No; what he hadn't thought to fathom was that in the Golden Age, the Lone Islands were as harmless as they were scenic. Not so in these more troubled times. It was little more than three years since the rule of his Uncle Miraz had collapsed, and a mere three years was not time enough for all the wrongs to be righted. Hence, Caspian should have realised that slavery in the Lone Islands was not quite as illegal as he would have liked.

A tall, unkempt man in front of him tugged at the rope which bound Lucy's wrists, and Caspian saw her stumble. He cursed the slaver, and himself for his naïvety.

Their only hope of rescue lay with Drinian and the Dawn Treader, but the ship was now on the other side of Felimath and a good ten miles away. So, they were on their own. If only he could have just a few minutes alone with the others...! He felt sure that between them they could plan some means of escape. He had always recognised and greatly respected Lucy and Edmund's resourcefulness, and sooner or later, Eustace had to be able to convert that ingeniousness for worming out of deck chores into a formidable strategic intelligence...

Jolted out of his reverie, he realised they had reached the shore and descended to a levelled-off area sheltering a small village. Over the quiet green-grey gulf, Caspian could see the white streets of Narrowhaven glinting in the afternoon sun. Pug tied their ropes to a fencepost and disappeared with his five companions into an inn, taking Reepicheep with him, the Mouse clearly in a transport of rage. One slaver stood guard outside the inn door, watching their prisoners from across the road.

Lucy, Edmund and Caspian immediately moved close and began to debate in low, quick voices.

"Is there any way we can alert Drinian and the rest of the crew?" Edmund asked desperately.

Caspian shook his head in frustration. "The Dawn Treader is likely to be round the other side of the island by now," he speculated. "Out of sight, out of hearing. And a long way to walk."

"But surely, They'll be suspicious when we don't meet up with them? They must come looking for us..."

"But the problem is, we couldn't tell Drinian exactly how long it would take to reach the south of Felimath," Caspian said. "It'll be hours before they know for sure that something's wrong, and by then we could be anywhere. On our way to Calormen, even. If only one of us could slip away..."

As if on cue, the guard by the inn door swung his heavy mace idly.

"I don't like the idea of us splitting up," Lucy said warily. "There's no way of contacting eachother; it's just adding an extra risk, and makes us harder to find."

"I don't like it either, but it would give us a chance to warn the crew," Caspian reasoned. "If only we could find a way to free Reepicheep! He's the fastest of us by far, and the least likely to be caught a second time."

"Caspian." Lucy's voice was calm, but he had the feeling she'd made an effort to do so. "How do they… treat… slaves in this place?" Something about the way she said it made him remember how quite early on one the slavers had taken her cloak, leaving her in just a thin white bodice. Edmund's lips thinned. Caspian's fist tightened around the fencepost.

"I'm not sure, Lucy," he said calmly. "But you may take heart that I and whoever stands by me will fight to the death for your honour."

Eustace, who had been tethered some way off and had been ranting furiously to himself, looked up in fear and indignation at the words 'fight to the death'.

"I don't want anyone fighting to the death for anything," Lucy said with that same calmness, though Caspian wondered what it was costing her to appear so composed. "We just need to be careful, that's all-"

She cut herself off as they saw Pug emerge from a side-street, trailing sulkily behind a well-dressed man who looked both stern and mild, and whose hair was silver under the sun. He was obviously agitated.

"Filthy practice!" the well-dressed man exclaimed angrily. "Traffic of human flesh! I've told you that Cathmar wants none of your wares."

"But just passing, Lordship, just passing through..." weedled Pug, as close as his gruff voice would allow. "Surely you'll allow a trader to mind his own and get on with his job..."

The well-dressed Lord made as if to retort, but his eyes fell on Caspian first. And then his anger ebbed away and there flickered in his face the strangest expression, as if he were remembering something from the distant past. He paused for a moment, evidently struggling, and then said sharply; "How much do you want for that boy?"

Pug stopped short; having been content to settle with merely being allowed passage through the port village, evidently the last thing he had expected was for the Lord to make an offer. He broke into a sly smile.

"Your Lordship knows good wares when he sees them," he gloated. "No deceiving your Lordship with anything second-rate. That boy, though, I've taken a liking to him myself. Got rather fond of him; wouldn't like to let him go for a pittance. I'm that tender-hearted I didn't ought to have taken up this job, but-"

"Tell me your price, carrion," said the Lord sternly. "Do you think I want to listen to the rigmarole of your filthy trade?"

Caspian's heart was pounding. There had been something of a recognition in the Lord's glance, and now he thought of it, he about fitted the ages of those whom his Uncle Miraz had sent away from Narnia. Could it be...?

Pug and the Lord were haggling. It was only when Lucy's voice broke through, and she was close enough that he could hear the tremble, that Caspian realised what was actually going to happen. His mouth went dry. They would be split up.

"Please," Lucy said steadily. "I beg of you. Don't separate us."

"A hundred and fifty crescents, then," said the Lord. "As for you, maiden, I am sorry I cannot buy you all. Unrope my boy, Pug. And heed: treat these others well while they are in your charge, or I shall have word of it, and it will be the worse for you."

_She's strong,_ Caspian reassured himself. He couldn't look away from her, her fair hair, her cloud-grey eyes. _She's strong, she'll fight. And Reep and Edmund and even Eustace, they-_

"Well!" said Pug, adopting an official manner. "Now whoever heard of a gentleman in my line of business who treated his stock better than what I do? Well? Why, I treat 'em like my own family."

"That's likely enough to be true," the Lord said grimly.

The guard moved to untie the rope wound round the fencepost, but left secured the loops round Caspian's wrists. The Lord counted out his money; Caspian could only see Lucy. He wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but the knots binding him were unmerciful... He lurched forward, and not being able to put his arms round her he simply pressed his body against hers, the sides of their heads touching, almost like the way cats will greet each other. Her hair, trapped between them, was hot from the sun.

It only lasted a moment before he was roughly pulled away.

"Now missy," Pug said airily, seeing the tears in Lucy's eyes, "don't you start taking on and spoiling your looks for the market tomorrow." His grin was predatory, unnerving. "You be a good girl and there'll be nothing to cry about, see?"

Caspian twisted savagely in the guards grasp, but as he was restrained with the utmost ease he realised the truth - next to these seven men, all huge and well armed, he was just a boy, king or no. Suddenly limp and icy-cold despite the midday sun, he was lead away through the village.

Lucy watched him go, her face blank and grim.


	2. Cargo

**A/N:** I'm ever so sorry for being a bad lady and keeping what readers I have waiting for me to scrape my life together and make time to write another chapter. Actually, at this point in time I'm supposed to be writing a 2000 word essay on Aristotle's definition of Eudaimonia. So if anyone could help me out with that, that'd be lovely.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. Starbrow, you are a mad lady. xx

* * *

El Tango De Lucian 

* * *

It was crowded in the boat.

Crowded, uncomfortable, smelly and hot. Edmund's face was level with a filthy shoulder belonging to a gangly, very thin boy a few years older than him. He tried to turn his head a little, but only succeeded in bumping into Eustace, who for once wasn't complaining; having exhausted his voice some hours ago, he had lapsed into silence. It seemed the crossing was rough; they were pitching and rocking in a violent, sickening way.

The timbers of the boat creaked, and someone retched horribly further up the hold. For the hundredth time, Edmund's thoughts were on Lucy.

Lucy had not been put in the hold with Edmund, the rest of the boys and the very young children. She had been taken with the women down a different passage. Edmund had shouted, struggled, tried to wrench his hands free as she reached for him. One of the guards had hit him, very hard. He could not see the wound, and knew it probably wasn't serious because scalp wounds always *do* bleed so heavily, but… the blood had been running for an awfully long time now. It dripped down his cheek and tickled his lip.

In a strange way the wound made Edmund feel calmer. He was Narnian again now, somehow. He could cope with wounds and rough treatment and dangerous situations; wasn't he _King_ Edmund? Hadn't he been through much, much worse?

He closed his eyes and tried to recall in excruciating detail the battle at the Fords of Beruna. The harsh breathing, the stench of gore, the clash of weapons, the appalling, inhuman noises of the demons of Jadis. How their stunted and demented shapes had seemed so much more frightening in full daylight than he could possibly have imagined; curved chitin beaks and spindly arms as long as legs, pale bulbous eyes and gaping mouths, fleshy white tongues, slimy fingers that gripped throats and did not release you even as they were cut down… and of course, the Witch herself. Her eyes as he snapped her wand with a sickening crunch. That piercing, furious gaze that seemed to peel the skin away from his face and his chest, exposing his mind and heart to her, baring all he was, and how he had felt _ashamed_ of what she must have seen…

His eyes when he opened them were graver, more solemn, and older. Jadis faded and he was back on the boat, hearing the waves lap against the wood. Eustace was pressed into his elbow.

It had worked. The boat seemed like a veritable haven now. Apart from the lurching, and the small boy being sick at the end of the next row.

He looked around, less agitated, trying to rationalise his thoughts. The slaves were tied in rows to a line of beams crisscrossing the hold, secured by a single length of chain running through many hoops. The chain was fastened to a reef-notch by the galley hatch.

His heart lifted. If he could only manage to reach the chain and twist it over the notch, he could pull it through all the hoops and free them!

But what then? What could they do? Jump overboard? Probably some of these people couldn't swim. Try to overpower the slavers? Ridiculous. Edmund's strength was all but spent; he hadn't had anything to eat all day, and most of the others looked as if they hadn't been fed all week. Stay put, then? The slavers were bound to come down sooner or later and tie them back up, most likely with liberal use of their whips. There was nothing he could do.

Had he been Peter, he would have smote his chains in a fit of frustration. Had he been Susan, he would have sobbed. But he was Edmund, and so he carried on thinking, assessing, calmly relaying his options.

It seemed their best chance lay in disembarking onto the dock of Narrowhaven. If by some power he could free himself, Lucy, Eustace and Reepicheep without the guards noticing, they could outrun them for sure; and then find the Dawn Treader, and Caspian, and come back to free the rest…

He actually sighed out loud. Now he was just plain fantasising.

Roused by his sigh, Eustace turned to his cousin and whispered nervously. "I say, there isn't – I mean, there isn't any way we can possibly get _out _of this, is there?"

"Not sure," Edmund mumbled, trying not to attract much attention. "I think we might have something more of a chance when we land, but even then it's tricky…"

"What about Caspian, or the Dawn Treader?" Eustace insisted. "The crew will know something's wrong by now. They'll be searching for us."

"I'm sure they will," Edmund agreed, "but they're likely to be searching Felimath, not Avra. And by the time they find out what happened we might be on our way to Calormen, or somewhere worse."

"Is it so awful in Calormen?" Eustace asked, interested despite himself.

Edmund hesitated. "Well... no, I didn't really mean that. We went there a few times when we – well, you know. When we ruled. In some places, particularly south beyond the desert, it's really quite beautiful. And Tashbaan's a sight to behold. Su went most often. It was usually me that went with her, and sometimes Lucy… Peter couldn't often get away from Narnia, of course. Some of the Calormenes I liked very much, but then there was the whole slavery business, and they are a _very_ proud people. We got into a real jam there once, with a prince who liked Susan too much for his own good. We barely got away, and even then Rabadash followed us with an army…" He fell silent, lost in memory.

Eustace, annoyed by this half-hearted explanation of what sounded like a good story, was about to tell him not to start if he wasn't going to finish, when the most stomach-heaving lurch yet threw them into the wall, nearly stunning them.

He turned his rebuke into a tirade condemning old-fashioned, badly-handled buckets of ships instead.

* * *

Meanwhile, Caspian was spending his hours in much greater comfort, but no less unease.

The Lord Bern, having been informed of the identity of his young charge, had subsequently taken Caspian back to his estate to discuss their next move. Part of Caspian agreed that this was rational and sensible; he had an ally now, and they couldn't jump into any kind of rescue without first coming up with a suitable plan of action.

The rest of him was screaming that they had to go _now,_ damn the planning, damn everything, it didn't matter if they knew what they were doing or not, they just had to leave at once. Even now, the others could have been sold, or beaten, or worse…

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think of it.

"Sire?" The gentle voice of the Lord Bern broke through his thoughts.

"Yes, my Lord Bern. Forgive me. You were saying…?"

Bern re-launched into his current train of thought: specifically, that an open battle against the slave-ship or the Governor would be rash, and that they should make show that they had more backing than was strictly true. Caspian tried his best to be attentive, but images kept invading his mind; the chuckling and leering of the slavers, Pug's disturbing words, Lucy shivering without her cloak…

He was jolted into the present by the faint sounding of a horn. Looking up sharply, he saw the gilded prow of the Dawn Treader round a spur of headland, sparkling like an insect. He leapt up and, with a cry of joy, winded his own horn.

"At last! They'll put in to shore any time now," he said, full of energy once more. "We can talk further with my Captain Drinian. Come."

* * *

Drinian's face was a mask of anger as Caspian and Lord Bern finished their tale. "Curse them, the dishonourable scum! How they would dare…"

"It seems the reign of Miraz has not fully been remedied in these far regions," agreed Caspian regretfully. "But we must now make all haste to Narrowhaven, for I fear for our comrades."

"My liege," Bern interrupted thoughtfully. "If I may present a solution… Steer straight down this channel, Captain," he instructed Drinian, "and then round to Avra where my own estates are. But first run up the King's banner, hang out all the shields, and send as many men to the fighting top as you can. And about five bowshots hence, when you get open sea on your port bow, run up a few signals."

"Signals? To whom?" Drinian asked.

"Why, to all the other ships we haven't got but it might be well for the Governor to think we have."

"I see," said Drinian, rubbing his hands together. "And they'll read our signals. What shall I say? 'Whole fleet round the south of Avra and assemble at-'?"

"Bernstead," pronounced the Lord. "That will do excellently. Their whole journey – if there were any ships – would be out of sight from Narrowhaven."

Caspian nodded.

It seemed to Bern that the young King's gaze was fixed on something in his mind the others could not see, something which left the old man unnerved and perplexed. The King did not merely seem anxious, he actually looked as if he were quashing some terrible fear.

But Caspian stood up straighter and, with an air of defiance in his clear blue eyes, tilted up his chin and announced "Let it be so."

* * *

**A/N:** Again, I'm terribly sorry for neglecting what few readers I have. Consider this a virtual kiss on the face. Just as an aside; the dialogue between Caspian, Bern and Drinian in this chapter is paraphrased from Lewis' writing itself, as I expect you probably noticed due to the fact that you're a big enough Narnia fan to read dodgy slavery fanfic about it. Doesn't hurt to make it clear, though.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I refer particularly to ThistleDemon, who reviewed and swore at me, emailed me and swore at me more, called me a cheese monkey and a f*cking lousy Brit.

ThistleDemon: I'm dedicating this whole story to you.

Thanks again to everyone. Continue having lovely lives and I'll write another chapter when I'm not in the middle of exams.

Love, r xxxxx


	3. Transit

**A/N:** OMGLOLWTFBBQ!111!

Yes. I live.

Looking at the update thingy on this story, I have worked out that I am effectively writing this story at a rate of about three pages a year.

I'm outsprinting Linford Christie here!

Er. I lose at life.

xxx

* * *

El Tango de Lucian 

* * *

"I suggest as bold an entrance as possible," said the Lord Bern firmly. "No sneaking, no stealth. We must look as though the possibility of any threat to our presence has not crossed our thoughts."

"What did you have in mind?" inquired Drinian.

"A straight march up to the castle. Leave your ship at the dock with as few people as can be spared to man it; we will lead a procession. Banners, flags, swords out."

Council was being held in the Lord Bern's parlour. Caspian and Drinian sat facing the window – night was creeping over the Strait of Avra, and the twinkling lights were reflected in the water.

Caspian had not cracked a smile all evening, and despite the excellent feast Bern had supplied he had not eaten more than half a plateful. His hands were compulsively clenching and unclenching atop the table.

"I want this taken care of as soon as possible," he growled. "I do not even wish to wait the night."

"I understand your concern, your majesty, but I truly think that my plan will be quicker in the long run." Bern ran a hand over his face, looking tired. "If we take action now, not only will it be extremely difficult to find Pug, but we immediately put ourselves in the role of the guilty party. Sneaking about will not help us, we need-"

"I said nothing about sneaking about," snapped Caspian, uncharacteristically short-fused. "I would storm their camp and take the heads from every one of the shoulders _right now_ if I had my way. Your disregard for the welfare of my comrades ill becomes you, my Lord."

"Stop this," Drinian said sharply, laying a hand on his king's arm. "The safety of their majesties and Reepicheep is utmost on his Lordship's mind, as it is on all of ours. He is right. Our best chance is at the new day; I assure you, we will not tarry."

Caspian looked away and took a deep breath.

"I am sorry, Bern," he said in a low voice. "You must see my reasons. We don't know enough about the treatment of slaves here; even now…"

"I understand fully," soothed Bern, "and in truth, I am just as worried. But if we are to help them, we need a proper plan."

"I say we go straight to the top," suggested Drinian. "Tackle the Governor first. What do you know of him, Lordship? Does he acknowledge the King of Narnia?"

"In words, yes. All is done in the King's name. But he will not be pleased to find a real, live King of Narnia come in upon him. If you came alone and unarmed, your majesty, I might even say that your Grace's life might be in danger…"

Drinian cursed under his breath.

"But while this may appear to hinder, it may actually be of help to us," Bern said thoughtfully. "The more evidence we have to prove the Governor unworthy, the quicker we can be rid of him. That leaves us free to abolish the slave laws, and find your friends."

Caspian nodded. "If, then, you will swear this may be the quickest way, it shall be done."

"I believe so, your majesty. We should go sooner rather than later – I suggest before noon-"

"At dawn," Caspian said shortly.

And so it was.

* * *

"Wake up," whispered a voice in her ear.

_But I'm so tired…_

The lulling motion of the ship had become choppy, stilted.

"I think they're stopping," said another voice, nervous.

_Something… something is wrong… there are no other women on the Dawn Treader…_

Chains – pushing – sun on Caspian's back – lead away –

Lucy's eyes flew open; she bolted upright with a gasp.

So it was not a dream.

"Ssh," said the young Calormene girl who had been chained beside her. "We can hear them; I think we're docking. They may come down in a minute."

There was a horrible moment when Lucy's skin crawled as she remembered who 'they' were.

She had been lead away from Edmund into another section of the ship. She had struggled, reached out for him – she had seen the slaver's fist and the blood on Edmund's head as he crumpled. Then it was all dark, wet wood, scattered straw and chains.

An hour or two later one of the slavers had come in, unchained one of the women, and dragged her out of the cabin. She had kicked and screamed, but he hit her. When the next girl was taken a little way through the night, she didn't struggle. Both had been thrown back into the cabin this morning; they had crawled silently into a corner and sat hugging themselves, shaking. There was blood on the older girl's shift.

Lucy had wept then. She had tried to find the Queen in her before; now, she was just another girl cowering in the corner, praying the door wouldn't open.

_But the Treader crew will find us. They'll find us and make all of it stop. He said he'd fight to the death…_

She didn't want him to fight to the death for her, though. She wanted to be back on the Dawn Treader, where the planks were scrubbed and dry, and the sunset came through the porthole in Caspian's cabin…

She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry, but the tears came anyway. So much for _Queen_.

The girls looked up apprehensively. There were shouts coming from above, footsteps thumping.

The door banged open. Every single girl, including Lucy, shrunk compulsively away.

But the slaver took no more notice of them than the rats. He began systematically unlinking their chains from the hooks on the wall; when it was done, he shook the end he was carrying and pulled them forward.

"Move," he said coldly.

Out of the dark, damp cabin… up the galley stairs… and onto the deck, the brightness and freshness of the new morning smiling down upon them as if to say, your plight is nothing to me. I shall go on shining whither or no.

A muffled sound caught her ears; turning, she saw the children and men grouped on the other side of the deck, and one dear face looking from their midst… she almost shouted "Edmund!" but she knew how stupid that would be.

Instead, they simply looked at each other. There were no smiles to be had; how could there be? The cut on his head, she noticed, did not look so bad. He was staring at her urgently, his eyes trying to communicate…

She realised he was asking if she had come to harm. She acknowledged by shaking her head – just a tiny bit, so as not to be noticed.

Edmund visibly sagged with relief, as if the answer had dissolved the line of agonised tenseness along his shoulders; but then was forced to hold himself upright again as the slavers hauled their groups into motion, leading them down the gangway into the sleepy, clean white town.

Brother and sister shared a grim glance. They had survived so far, but it was not over yet.

* * *

The sun was brilliant, even though it had only just risen. The banners flew. The breeze was sweet; the world wholesome.

Caspian was locked in a nightmare.

The procession had begun. The long road up the hill to the Governor's castle was lined with cheering islanders; the first were there as favours to Bern, who had sent word, but as the party progressed the whole town turned out to be a part of the commotion.

He had arranged his features into a sort of joyful sternness, an unshakeable confidence designed to cow and unsettle the Governor, but in reality every step was torture. The heat of the road seemed to strike up through his boots, and even though the morning was fresh a line of sweat was forming on his brow.

He had seen the ships at the harbour. He just didn't know which one it was. She could have been in any of them, and they could have been…

The hand holding his sword shook. Every nerve in his body screamed _you're going the wrong way! The market's behind you! You're going the wrong way!_

Images crowded his mind, and each one made the blood drain a little more from his face – terrible images of what happened to slaves when their owners had spent too long bored on voyages…

He squared his shoulders. The sooner they had control of the Governor, the sooner it would be over. Then they would pay.

_They will pay. A wrong look, a harsh word, if they laid a finger on you… I swear, by the Lion, they will pay._

* * *

**A/N:** Avenge, Caspian. AVENGE!_  
_

So I finally get a chance to reply to reviewers. First of all, I'd just like to say that I love you all and would gladly have your babies. However that would work. So many people have left lovely reviews for this story and every single one of them has the effect of a double gin&tonic on me. Haha.

For everyone who asked about my exams: I had a slipup at christmas where I pretty much failed the first part of the year, but I've been a first class swot since then, and managed to pull my marks up to a very respectable level. Go me! And thank you very much for all your encouraging comments :)

**Delerium's Child:** Oh, 40's hero Caspian is on his way. Except you probably won't hear him saying anything like "You know, Lucy, I, er, rather like you. You're... a jolly nice girl!" Although that would be truly excellent, I think it might ruin the mood... :D

**Alara:** I sort of forgot you offered to be a beta-reader, but if you're still interested, I could send you the next chapter when I do it. And I promise, just for you, that I will finish this :)

**Thistledemon:** This is your fic, so enjoy! _Cheese monkey._ (looks innocent)

**Thousand Paper Cranes, aka girl what is lovely:** I LOVE YOU LIKE A PIE. That is all.

Til next time!

Rumms x


	4. Destination

**A/N:** Hi beautifuls. I am so back, and I am so rocking out.

You know why I got myself into gear, don't you? Because Prince Caspian will be out soon, and the guy who got cast as Caspian is hot. (As he should be, might I add.) But you know what this means.

CASPIAN SUES YAY.

NB: I do not have anything against Mary Sues. In fact, I am incredibly fond of them. The thing is, much like children, flatulence and kareoke attempts, they are so much more fun when they're your own. So I thought I'd finish El Tango now, while people still think Lucian isn't weird, because when the film comes out people will not want anyone sharing gooey looks with Caspian except themselves (and who can blame them?), or think I'm a sick deviant for pairing Georgie Henley with Caspian because she's probably still all young and cute-as-a-button-ish. No, that is not an invite for you to call me a sick deviant. Although I suppose you can if that's your bag.

Anyway, I know it's been a while. As Whitney Houston says, "I just want you to know, I love every single _one_ of you." Well, okay, after she said that she was bottled for being an hour late onstage, but the sentiment is there. I really do.

xx

* * *

El Tango de Lucian 

* * *

There was a door, heavy oak on hinges that had rusted through disrepair. Imagine the scene; in the sleepy courtyard behind, four guards with ill-repaired armour dozed in wine-fuelled dreams. Horses shuffled lazily in their stalls, jackdaws cawed softly from the ivy.

With a crash that sent the unfortunate birds shrieking into the air and the guards leaping muzzily to their feet, the gate shook violently; once, twice, and a third time before the rust gave way and the oak was flung wide. One hung from its ravaged hinge for half a minute before tumbling spectacularly to the flagstone floor.

The sergeant was halfway across the courtyard when the sunlight cascaded through the open port, half-blinding him. There was shouting outside, trumpets, and then through the flood of light at the door, a silhouette appeared - the figure's hair blazed like a halo around his head, and for a mad moment the sergeant thought it was the mane of a lion, and shrank into the wall.

But as the surreal moment passed and the figure strode into the courtyard along with a troop of others, the captain realised it was a normal man; richly dressed, but devoid of any supernatural qualities. And he noticed two things immediately.

The first was that the man was young. Not man; boy, even. The sergeant was not quite out of his twenties, but he would have guessed that the blond apparition was at least ten summers fewer.

The second was that, young though he was, the sergeant would rather put his head between the jaws of a bear than stand in his way. There was something about his eyes that was deeply unnerving. There was a hint of fear in their blue depths, but fear that was masked with a cold, biting fury that sent the sergeant's heart racing, and his hand to his scabbard. Too late, he realised that there was a golden circlet on the young man's fair hair.

One of the soldiers – a dark-haired man of the captain's age, dressed for seafaring – strode to the front and drew his sword with a long, loud and very definite scraping sound.

"Three cheers for the king," said Captain Drinian, for he it was. "Now take us to the Governor."

* * *

Lucy had an impression of filtered light, and straw on the floor, and hundred of voices talking all at once.

They were being led into a low, long hall. A rough stage had been erected at one end, and the men and children from the hold had been lined up – the bidding was near to starting. Straining, she caught sight of Edmund, but Eustace was nowhere to be seen. The now-constant gnawing of fear in her stomach gave a little jolt; had he been sold before the official opening? Or worse? Reepicheep, too, was not on the stage.

Now that they were here, so close to being sold and moved on to somewhere they had no control over, the passive fear in Lucy began to mould and take shape. A spark of courage started to grow in her mind. Wasn't she Queen? _Wasn't_ she? And then there was Aslan, of course. Surely he wouldn't want harm to come to her? But she had a feeling no-one, not even the Lion himself, could help her if she didn't at least try herself first. That was what it was all about, wasn't it? Taking your destiny into your own hands. She remembered the girls in the cabin, the blood on their legs. Her anger began to grow. That was good; she could use it. .

She was manacled to a long line of the women, each of them attached to the same chain. That would mean that if she was sold, her hands would have to be freed in order to be passed to her new owner.

And if her hands were freed – she was light, she was fast, she was young. Run. Anywhere. They would try to catch her, of course, but it was crowded in here and she could slip through the muddle more easily than they could. There was no time for a more sophisticated plan. Just run, and pray the Dawn Treader was nearby.

The Dawn Treader… oh, Caspian! Why wasn't he here? It almost made the fear conquer the courage again – had something happened to him? The old man who bought him had seemed kind enough, but who knew? Caspian couldn't have claimed his freedom unless he revealed his identity, and that was a hugely dangerous move to take. If the old man hadn't been a loyal subject, Caspian's get-out card could have turned into a death sentence in the blink of an eye.

No. No, don't think about that. One step at a time. Wait until the manacles come off, first.

_He'll come for us. I know he will. He must…_

_Caspian…_

* * *

The crash reverberated around the dusty hall as the Governor's desk-table was overturned by Drinian and Lord Bern. Documents and correspondence flew haphazardly into the air like panicked doves before falling limply to the flagstones. The Governor himself was as white as his parchment as he was plucked from his chair of office and set neatly on the floor.

Caspian sat on the chair before him, unsheathed his sword very deliberately, and laid it across his knees.

"You shall have three minutes of my time," he said quietly and dangerously. _"Three minutes. _At the end of which, you will have granted my requests, and I shall be on my way to see they are carried out. Do you understand?"

"Nothing about it in the documents," the Governor stammered. "We have not been notified-"

"_Do you understand?"_

The Governor took one look at the cold fury in the young King's eyes, and his hands began to shake. In a rare moment of wisdom, he said the most sensible words possible.

"Yes, your Majesty."

* * *

Standing on the platform, like a piece of meat on show at a butchers, was something Lucy would remember in nightmares for many years to come. It was so… _sordid._ Lucy's fear had now turned fully to rage; she seethed. Her grey eyes were cold and hard with hatred.

Edmund, standing nearby, regarded her with something between apprehension and terror. He had never seen his sister look like this before. Or had he…? There were faint images, fuzzy memories, from a very different time long ago… when they were kings and queens, and a Calormene Prince had taken Susan prisoner against her will… Lucy marching to war, every arrow-tip deadly… yes, perhaps he _had _seen that expression before…

His reverie was broken when Lucy half-turned, moving an inch or so closer to him – not enough to be noticed by the slavers, but enough to hear her whisper.

"They have to unshackle us to sell us. Once they're off, run. It doesn't matter where. Caspian must be close."

"And then?" he murmured back.

"We come back for the others."

Edmund's heart beat faster. Now it was so close, his insides were writhing with anticipation, but he made himself still and fingered the manacles around his wrists. She was right. They were joined to the others; they'd have to be unchained.

Lucy turned back to the crowd. The bidding had started; Pug was presiding over it, taking preference orders. One by one, slaves were released from the chain and presented to the purchasers. Before she knew what was happening, Lucy's arms were grabbed by the nearest slaver. To her grim delight, Edmund was pulled forward too – they were to be presented as a pair. Brother and sister were pushed roughly onto the podium.

"Lot five, siblings, in their teens, strong, healthy!" Pug's voice rang out through the hall. "Opening bid for the pair, two hundred crescents! Yes, my good man, is that two hundred and fifty? Turn them about, Janin!"

At Pug's request, Lucy felt rough hands turn her slowly on the spot, exhibiting her to the crowd.

It was at that moment, turned like a hog roast on a spike, that her hatred settled into a solid, palpable force. She hardly noticed the winning bidder come to collect his purchase. She only felt the manacles slackening and dropping off her wrists. She looked around and saw an earthenware jug of beer on the nearest table. In one fluid motion, she grabbed it, pitched it forward, and hurled it with all her vicious anger into the slaver's face.

The jug shattered in a catastrophe of clay shards, beer and blood. The slaver stumbled back with an incoherent cry of agony, his hands over his face. The hall was silent for one shocked moment.

Then all hell broke loose.

Lucy grabbed Edmund's hand and ran.

* * *

Caspian's feet pounded on the hot road.

True to his word, the Governor had been dealt with in three minutes. Caspian had not even waited for the others as he had dashed out of the hall, although he knew Drinian was following some way behind. An all-consuming fear had gripped him, and his strained nerves simply could not take any more waiting around. The administrative business was done with, as far as he was concerned. There was a time for action, and this was it.

As he rounded the bend to the docks, he could see the long low building he had identified earlier as the market hall. His blood ran cold as a roar erupted from within its walls. Something was happening.

He had a pretty good idea of what it was. He knew his other-wordly companions well enough by now to guess that, at least. He felt a fierce stab of pride as he thought of Lucy's defiance, but the ice closed in again as the likely consequences of rebellion rose to his mind. What if he was too late?

He drew his sword with a metallic ring, and ran on.

* * *

Chairs were flung aside, tables were turned over, people scattered as Lucy and Edmund careered through the hall, blind to any damage caused. Just one hand would be enough to slow them, and if they slowed down, they were done for.

The door was ahead. A wild, frantic hope rose in Lucy – would they really make it? Once outside, there were dozens of escape routes, a hundred hiding places, and if they were especially lucky the Dawn Treader would be nearby…

The sudden burst of optimism was snuffed out like a candle when something blotted out the light from the door, and both siblings smashed headlong into a body that had suddenly appeared from the left. Before she could even scream, an arm grabbed Lucy round the waist and she was lifted bodily from the ground, only to be flung through a door into a side-chamber.

She fell hard against the floor, her wrist immediately collapsing beneath her and sending a sharp pain up her arm. A sprain. Beside her, she felt Edmund land with a gasp, all the breath knocked out of him.

The door slammed.

She knew what she would see as she looked up. Pug stood there, his teeth bared in a grimace of fury, drawing his dagger.

"You weren't worth the trouble," he snarled. "I've no use for disobedient slaves. A leopard never changes its spots."

With lightning quickness, Edmund seized a discarded chain from the floor and slashed it towards the man – it hit with a clash and a spray of blood. Pug reeled back, a jagged welt on his cheekbone, and then Edmund was on him like a terrier – fists, knees, elbows, anything he could find with an explosion of ferocity. But the slaver was too big, too strong, and Edmund was only a boy... In one great sweep of his arm, Pug dashed his attacker against the wall, where he lay motionless with blood pooling on the ground beneath his hair.

Lucy's world went red.

She thought she remembered screaming – whether it was Edmund's name, or anything else, she couldn't say. She scrabbled for the chain, fingernails breaking on the stone floor, and lashed it with the inhuman strength of desperation – but although it hit its mark, it wasn't enough. A hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her clear into the air, slamming her back into the wall and choking her into blackness.

Pug's breath came in gasps. "You – filthy –"

She was panting, struggling, fighting for breath, her feet kicking uselessly in midair against the wall. Her sight was failing; lights were bursting in front of her eyes, her lungs were screaming, she was blacking out, she was dying –

And then like something out of a dream, the door crashed open, and a golden figure was surging towards them, and there was a terrible ripping noise, and then silence…

Pug dropped her.

With vision blurred almost to blindness, Lucy looked up. The slaver stood there, features frozen in pure shock as he looked down at the blade-tip that protruded from his heart.

He swayed and fell. Behind him was King Caspian the Tenth, and his face was blazing with fury.

He flew to her. She was struck dumb; her voice was useless, nonexistent. He lifted her tenderly, his face inches from hers, his crystal blue eyes alive with vengeance, triumph, fear, and… something else?

Lucy fainted.

* * *

**A/N: **Epilogue to come.

I am more grateful than you know for every single one of your reviews, and I really mean that from the bottom of my heart.

**Animus Wyrmis: **Here is your happiness, your conclusion and your fluff. And you shall have more in the epilogue.

**AngelOnFire:** I agree with you entirely on the philosophy of fanfiction, although I have room in my heart for Mary-Sues and crazy crackfic AUs, too. But I really do cherish the fics that fill in gaps and expand existing characters, working on their potential. Thank you so much for your encouragement!

**Pachinko:** Yes, I do like Star Wars! In fact, it was the thing that first got me into fanfiction and internet fandom. With... yes, you guessed it... a Mary Sue! Bless her.

**To every other reviewer:** Your feedback, questions, ideas and kind words really touched me and spurred me on, so thank you so much. It really brightens up my day when I get a notification in my inbox, because I usually just assume these stories have fallen into the blue and no-one really reads them any more. You've all taught me otherwise, so thank you so much for that. Oh, can you feel the love in here! I think I need some chocolate.

xxxxxx


	5. Epilogue

El Tango de Lucian, Epilogue

* * *

Everything was quiet and still and light. She was floating in a soft void… There was a rich golden eye watching her, but when Lucy woke, she remembered nothing of it.

The first thing that returned was hearing. Birds, rustling leaves, and the quiet distant splash of waves. Then there was touch; cool cotton sheets, and a breeze that played around her face and hair.

Lucy slowly opened her eyes.

Given the circumstances of her last waking moment, she could be excused if for a moment she thought she was in heaven. Everything was white – the smooth walls, the clean linen over her body, the filmy muslin drapes at the window… but then other colours began to filter in, and she saw sunlight, and green trees through the window, and the corn-yellow hair of the person beside her. Caspian.

Her last glimpse of him – panting, ferocious, vengeful – seemed as far away as a dream as she watched him now. He was slumped on the floor next to the bed, his back against the wooden frame, knees up and head resting on his arms. His honey-coloured hair fell over his eyes, which were closed. He was asleep. She wondered how long he'd been there.

As she lay watching him, and as he slept, it was as if they were in a bubble set apart from time. She finally had the chance to study him, totally and unabashedly, as she hadn't been able to before – whether from politeness, or shyness, she wasn't sure. His face was youthful, but the jaw was defined and set, and there was a slight frown on his brow. He looked tired, worried, older. His hands, she noticed for the first time, had faint traces of scars on the knuckles; the product of sword and bow practice from his youth.

She didn't know how long she lay, drinking in his presence like wine, but eventually the spell broke and Caspian stirred.

He looked up, and their eyes met.

He didn't say a word; they just looked at each other, steadily and uncompromisingly. Then Caspian smiled, and she did too. His hand moved involuntarily towards hers, but at the last minute he checked it, and instead rested it on the bedspread with their little fingers just touching.

"Where are we?" She whispered. Her voice was broken and husky, yet to recover from the attack.

"You are safe. We are in the house of Lord Bern."

"Lord-?" she said, her eyes widening. "Then…"

"Yes," he smiled, "the first of seven is found. A happy coincidence!"

Lucy fell back on the pillows, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "The other slaves?" she said suddenly, remembering her vow in the trading hall.

Caspian made another involuntary move towards her hand. "Always thinking of others," he said softly. "The Governor's rule has been overturned. Every slave on the island has been freed. And their masters compensated," he added wryly, "although I admit I was less desirous of that detail."

Lucy felt a blush rising. She had to say it, although it felt strangely intimate. To speak now was to acknowledge the fact that she had been _rescued,_ like some damsel in distress. But she couldn't let any more time pass without saying what needed to be said.

"You saved my life," she said, taking the plunge. "Thank you."

As he looked at her, she realised that perhaps sometimes, it was all right to be rescued.

But Caspian turned away quickly, his face darkening. "I shall never forgive myself for placing you in such danger. Never, never."

"What?" she tried to cry, although her voiced failed her. "Caspian, it was my idea to walk on Felimath in the first place!"

"But I allowed it, alone, and without protection. I was a fool. I paid dearly for it."

"I'm not having this," she said firmly, "not when the last thing you should be doing is blaming yourself. I'll no more of it; do you hear me?"

A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes at her tone. "Not injured enough to keep from scolding me, I see! Well, as you will; as always, I hear and obey, your majesty."

She settled back on the bolster imperiously. "Thank you, _your_ majesty."

He laughed. So did she, but it turned into a cough as her wounded throat protested. Caspian sobered. "As soon as we return on board, you must take some of your cordial. Edmund too."

"How is Edmund?" Lucy asked anxiously, suddenly fearful as the images of Pug's blow flooded back. "Is he well?"

"He has a head-wound, but he's made of stern stuff; I daresay you know that better than I. Bern's physician says he is recovering perfectly satisfactorily."

"Oh, thank goodness," Lucy said, closing her eyes. Relief was making her drowsy; suddenly, it was hard to stay awake.

"Sleep," said Caspian softly. "You are not yet recovered."

She hesitated, knowing what she wanted to say, but feeling shy and awkward. She decided to throw caution to the wind. "Will you… stay a little while? Not long," she added hastily; "I'm sure you have a lot to talk about with Lord Bern."

He looked at her with something in his azure eyes that made her heart beat faster.

"I would not move from this place if all the hordes of Tash were at my door."

And he didn't.

* * *

FIN

* * *

**A/N:** There you go. _Finis._ Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story - I know it's taken me about five years to write five chapters, and the fact that some of you (Thistly, I love you like an amazing pie) are still following it truly amazes me. I am so chuffed I could just put you all in a bag and eat you.

You may or may not remember that at the end of **Sooner or Later**, my second Lucian fluff-fest, I said one-day I might do a sequel, based in Aslan's country. Well, if it's of any interest to any of you, it's half-written. It's the last Lucian I have lined up for now, but I'd never rule another one out, particularly since I just saw the first official _Prince Caspian _poster and you know what? I could make lots of jokes about scandalously good-looking princes and their magic horns, but I'm not going to. Because let's face it, you've all thought of them already.

Edit 03/12/07: I just noticed this and I feel like I have to mention it - Andi Horton, I'm terrible with names and I didn't really take yours in when I read your review. You may have noticed that I mentioned you in the authors note for my other fic - I hadn't realised by then that you'd actually reviewed this, and I basically wanted to let you know that all of that was 100 heartfelt, not just a 'payback' or anything like that. I'm pretty floored that you liked this and I can't say how validating it is to have approval from an author like you.

Anyhow, thank you everyone for reading, whether you've been poking me for updates for ages or whether you just strolled in half an hour ago. I love you. Really really. I really don't know how to express my gratitude to you all individually, so hopefully many gathered exes will do the talking for me.

From Rumms xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


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